Of Ostrich Logic and Oatmeal Roses
by Queen of Duct Tape
Summary: Alright, fine. So James and I got together on Valentine’s Day. What of it?


**Of Ostrich Logic and Oatmeal Roses**

By: QDT

Disclaimer: I disclaim.

**One-shot.**

Alright, fine. So James and I got together on Valentine's Day. What of it? 

…Don't look at me like that.

Really.

Your eyebrows are starting to blend in with your hairline.

It's exceptionally unattractive.

You, know if the wind changes, your face will stick like that.

QUIT STARING AT ME. Say something, dammit.

…Or not. Hey, that's cool. I can talk enough for the both of us.

But I'd really rather not. Because it's incredibly embarrassing.

Well, if you wanted to know how it's embarrassing, you should have paid attention at the very beginning. Of course it's embarrassing how we got together.

My God, it was Valentine's Day. Nothing on that day ever goes as planned.

For instance, I had planned on staying in my quarters all day, sneak down to the kitchens for dinner, and successfully avoid vomit-inducing couples for the entire event.

But, like I said, nothing on that day ever goes as planned. It started going wrong the minute, no, scratch that, second I woke up. This is mostly because I woke to someone banging on my door and did not think about what exactly I was wearing when I pulled the door open to tell them off. Or scream and hex them.

It was, of course, James. What? You think I can live in close proximity to someone for five and a half months and not call them by their first name?

I resume: It was James. He gave me a cocky grin and made a lewd comment about my sleep wear.

"Did you want something?" I asked, ready to slam the door in his face and go back to sleep.

"Well, yes," he said, giving me a once-over.

"No," I said, this time actually slamming the door and collapsing back on my bed.

"Come on Lily!" He started banging on the door again. "You didn't even hear what I want!"

I groaned and covered my head with my pillow. If I couldn't see him, he couldn't see me, right?

The door opened. Damn unlocking spells. I buried my head further under the pillows.

"Did I wake you up?" asked James. Asshole.

I sat up. "Yes, as a matter of fact, you did. Now, if you go away immediately, I might forget this happened if I get back to sleep fast enough."

He didn't move. Didn't even think about moving! What was he doing awake at this time, anyway?

"What are you doing awake at this time, anyway?"

Now he looked amused. "Lily, it's ten o'clock."

"My point exactly. Go away." I tried lying back down and covering my head with the pillow again.

"Lily, get up."

"No."

"I've got a surprise for you."

"All the more reason for me to stay here."

"Come on."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No — this is stupid. Why are you still here?"

"I'm waiting for you to come to your senses and come with me."

"No." Poor James. He forgot I had my wand. Soon he was out of my room — on his ass in the hallway — but out of my room. I shut the door again and tried to go back to sleep.

Unfortunately, the stupid boy had kept me awake too long and I couldn't. But if I just went out now I would lose a hell of a lot of face. And James would tell the whole school I thought he was irresistible. So I got dressed and loitered in my room for another hour before heading down to the Great Hall for lunch. Brunch. Something.

I thought that by waiting to come out until eleven I had managed to miss the barrage of valentines and Lord knows what else that would be coming my way with the mail.

No such luck. No sooner had I sat down than the mail arrived and everyone looked up expectantly for their own valentines. I braced myself for an onslaught of owls. Five seconds passed. Thirty. A minute. I opened my eyes. Nothing.

I sighed happily and began to eat my breakfast. Brunch. Whatever. Food. And then something fell into my bowl.

A single red rose. I would appreciate the gesture, except…well, said gesture was now covered in whole-grain oatmeal and honey. So it was actually more of a lumpy white rose, losing petals into my oatmeal. But, hey, it's the thought that counts, right?

I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking that I'm infatuated with whoever sent me this rose, yes? Well, you're wrong.

…Stop staring at me.

Haven't we had this very stimulating and really rather one-sided conversation before?

Right. Okay. Red rose. Anyway, the rest of breakfast was uneventful. Girls screamed and sighed and red confetti was spontaneously generated as couples snogged and little pink hearts floated through the air. You know. Normal Valentine's Day stuff. Actually, it's pretty much normal everyday stuff.

Except for today you couldn't escape it if you tried. Usually couples are discreet. But not on Valentine's Day! Oh, no. Give them a day without classes and an extra Hogsmeade trip, and they're all PDA! All the time! I wanted to just disappear and reappear again on the fifteenth, ready for my first class and blissfully unaware of who is in love with whom and who is cheating on who with whom and how far James Potter is willing to go before I give in and go out with him.

Answer being: about twenty feet in front of me at that point in time.

"Lily!" His face broke into a grin. Go away, James. You woke me up. But of course he has managed to forget this. "Did you get my gift?"

"You sent that rose?" This is just a formality. No other boy has dared come near me since my first boyfriend dumped me. Or, rather, moved to America to avoid another run-in with James. So there really was no one else to send it.

James raised an eyebrow. "Of course I sent that rose. I though you might like it more than twelve dozen cards or fifteen red roses and a white one." He paused. "Or lilies."

"I'm allergic to lilies." He knew that.

"I know." It was, after all, his fault. On Valentine's Day in our third year, little thirteen-year-old James developed a crush on thirteen-year-old Lily and tried to give her lilies as a sign of his affection. And then, when my face was all swollen and my nose was all plugged up and my eyes were watering, he decided that I was in actuality rather ugly and then gave the lilies to Alice. My best friend. She threw them out and gave him a piece of her mind, but still. It's the though that counts, and James thought I was ugly when I was sick. And it was his fault.

I scowled. "You'd better have learned." James laughed. And then he turned around to walk with me. The idiot. Hadn't he been going in the other direction? And shouldn't he have better things to do with his time than stalk me?

Yeah, so anyway. When fifteen-year-old James fell again for fifteen-year-old Lily, he mistakenly thought I had forgiven him for the lily incident. And maybe I would have. But that's his own fault too, because he never even bothered to say he was sorry.

"So, Lily, where are you going?"

I probably shouldn't have answered. "Three Broomsticks."

"Not Madam Puddifoot's?" His eyes twinkled. Asshole.

"No, not Madam Puddifoot's."

"Mind if I join you?"

"At the Three Broomsticks?"

"Yes."

"Yes, I mind. Go away."

James, apparently, didn't hear me. "Great, I'll meet you there at two." And then before I could yell or slap him, he disappeared behind a painting and was gone.

So, I headed to the Three Broomsticks anyway, and decided to be gone by the time two rolled around.

At one forty-five, I poked my head out the door and stepped outside cautiously, hoping James hadn't decided to come early.

I started to walk away, but was almost instantaneously pulled backwards by my elbow.

"Not going somewhere, are you, Lily?" James. He hadn't been there two seconds ago. I know because I looked carefully, and if he had been there, I would have begged and pleaded with Madam Rosmerta to let me out the back way.

"Yes, actually, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to be late."

"No, you'll be late for our date," he said.

"We're not going on a date!"

"We are so." And then he pulled me back inside the Three Broomsticks and didn't let go until I was safely seated at a table where he was between me and the door. Damn him.

So I sat there and I drank my butterbeer, and he talked for four hours until I started talking back.

Hey! Would you quit looking at me like that?

I'm not going to finish the story if you keep giving me those looks.

Pouting isn't going to work for you either.

Alright! Fine! Just…don't look at me like that.

And then we walked back to the castle together.

It was cold outside. Yes, James gave me his cloak. No, it was not romantic. I tripped on the hem several times, and by the time we got back to the castle, I was even colder than I had been when we started out.

"Sorry about that," said James. "Look, I'll take you to the kitchens, and we'll have hot chocolate and you can warm up by the fire?"

Yes, it was a question. So I said "Sure," and then we walked down towards the Hufflepuff common room. Which I though was exceptionally stupid. Until we got to the kitchens and lots of house elves tripped over themselves to bring us food.

Except house elves are really short, so I sort of tripped over them too.

Hey! I said sort of. I didn't fall down, if that's what you're asking.

And no, James did not catch me. That's stupid and clichéd, and besides the table caught me first.

"Okay," said James. "This probably wasn't the best idea."

I looked at him. The same way you've been looking at me this entire time.

"Okay, so it wasn't even a very good idea."

I just stared at him.

"Fine, it wasn't even a good idea at all."

I looked at him some more.

"Stop that!" he said. "Say something, dammit!"

I just stared some more.

"Okay, this is starting to get a little weird."

And more…

"Fine! See if I take you out again!"

"Fine by me."

"Aha! She speaks!"

"Well, yes."

"Well, you weren't."

"You were being an idiot."

"I'm always an idiot. That's no excuse."

The conversation continued in this vein for quite some time. I must say, it's quite refreshing to talk with a guy about how stupid he is. And it was all going so nicely, until my chocolate got cold. At which point, I spit it out in surprise and it sprayed all over James.

"Sorry," I said, shocked for a bit. And then my senses returned and I ran away to my room, because, really, who wants to face someone they spit on?

And then James was banging on my door again. I didn't answer. I heard him start to say the spell to open the door again. But I had learned from this morning.

"Lily? Where — Lily, I can see your shoe."

I didn't say anything. I had lots of shoes. Most of them were lying around the room, cluttering the floor.

"The one that your foot is in and your ankle is sticking out of."

Okay, so I didn't have lots of feet and ankles for all of my shoes, but still. Maybe he was mistaken.

"Lily, I know you're under your bed."

No, he didn't. He was guessing. I just knew it. Until, of course, he lifted up the blanket and really found me.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," I said back. He lay down on the floor and wriggled under the bed with me.

"You spit on me."

I decided not to comment.

"Lots of people have spit on me. It doesn't much matter."

I refused to answer that one.

"Just say something awkward, and then we can go back to talking like normal people, alright?"

No, not alright. I wasn't going to say anything.

And then he kissed me, and when he was done, I really couldn't stay silent anymore.

"Uh, James?"

"What?" He looked nervous.

"I, um, well, there's a mattress spring digging into my leg, and if you could move so I could get out, that would be really great."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

And that was that.


End file.
